Lia
The house is quiet, the kind of quiet that’s deafening. I’m sitting on my bed, legs pulled up, and the TV muted. Some old Christmas movie is playing, one I am not really watching. I am tired, but it is the kind of tiredness that sleep will not fix. My phone is face down on the nightstand. I haven’t looked at it in hours, which is fine because I don't want to. My blinds are still partially open, but just enough to let the streetlight peek through. The snow from yesterday is still out there, covering the ground in dirty patches, but the air is dry and colder now. I wrap the blanket tighter around me, pressing my forehead to my knees, trying to get any type of warmth.
His words are still replaying on a loop and it’s been two days.
After tonight, everything changes.
A soft, careful kn
